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"Sasha, please stop crying," my sister whined. Her eyes were beginning to tear up, too. "You know what'll happen, and I'd rather cut the sobbing out altogether than start myself."

My reply was a wet sniff and a whimper.

I couldn't help it; honestly I couldn't. I mean it hurt; it hurt for me to cry, literally, but I couldn't stop. I hated it, but it seemed that the pressure of keeping myself together in front of my parents had reached its limit, and I just couldn't hold it in any longer. I didn't want them to see me so...so...vulnerable. With Claire, though, I obviously didn't give a damn.

I broke down once the bathroom door had closed. Claire had been overtly careful when helping me strip off my ruined clothes and lug my naked self into the tub, and now that I was soaking and sobbing she took the time to carefully survey the damage I had taken. I did the same through my good eye. My vision was clouded by dripping tear globules every few minutes, but I didn't need my usual 20/20 to see that I was a mess. Well, I didn't need to see anything. I heaved a powerful sob and my sight blurred from the pain of it. I could feel my pulse beating like strained pipelines through every limb and ounce of tissue. Each breath was torturous, and the bruises on my chest and stomach were so tender that even the bath water lapping against my fur, which caused it to wave, aggravated them.

The surface of the water rippled as I dropped my arms and they sank. The limbs, heavy with exhaustion and pain, didn't even feel attached to me. Warm water soon drenched through the fur of my forearms and soothed the aches a tad. I heard my knuckles knock against the bottom and sucked in a snotty breath through my nose. Claire tore off some toilet paper from a roll next to the sink and wiped it for me.

I winced as she gently brushed her fingertips against my cheek. "Oh, bro..."

My bad eye throbbed even from her slight touch that wasn't anywhere near it. I couldn't even think of touching the thing right out. I tried my damnedest not to even let it swivel around in the socket. That alone made it feel like it was about to tear my skull in half.

She grimaced as my face scrunched up and let her hand glide to the washcloth she'd draped over the side of the tub after getting me in. My ears fluttered as she dipped the thing in the water and rung it out, and then she started to carefully dab around my face with it.

"You know," she muttered. "I thought this would be a little weird."

I'd let my sight fall to the water, and my reflection in it frowned slightly. I looked up at her, and a faint smile traced across her muzzle.

"What," I grumbled.

She chuckled. "Well, giving my eighteen year old little brother a bath. Seeing you naked for the first time since you were a kit and I was changing your diapers."

Her eyes started glistening more as I watched her. Even at a time like this she was reminiscing. Even through my pain I couldn't help but smile, too, though. Claire has always been there when I needed her. Before Conall, she was the one I went to when I was stricken with something - be it troubles or a scraped knee. I sighed. Here we were again. It would seem you can never outgrow the past.

She looked a lot like me, Claire; acted a lot like me, too. When I'd gotten older and began to match her in height other furs often mistook us for twins even though she was six years older than me. I never really knew how to handle that, but I always just told myself they'd meant fraternal twins and not identical even though I knew that to be false. I think I got most of my gayer tendencies from her, but I think that happens with any gay guy who grows up in a household with an older sister. I looked up to her as she was the first to really treat me like a normal boy, and, ironic as it was, I guess that made me want to be like her in a sense. So I picked up her perfectionist, nit-picky, detail oriented, and glamorous ways and that seemed to smelt together our bond with one another like iron. That's one reason why I wasn't uncomfortable with her bathing me, and that's also why I trusted her to make me pretty again.

I lost track of time as she helped me to clean myself as much as my broken body would allow, and, by the time she was satisfied and the water was clouded brown by the blood that had been washed out of my fur, I looked as fresh as a newborn. Well, a newborn whose mother had been socked in their pregnant stomach by a baseball bat. Either way I felt a lot better, and once clean I let out my soiled water and refilled the tub, and then I just lay back and let the warmth caress the tensions from my body.

Claire felt obligated to stay with me, I suppose. She'd retreated to sit on the toilet while I attempted to relax, and, between checking her cellphone and flipping through the pages of my health magazines that sat on the tank of my throne, she'd watch me. I didn't mind, but I didn't want her to feel as though she had to take care of me now just because my mother had told her to. I mean, I'd prefer her to my mother, but you get my point.

I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and then I ducked my head under the water so only my nose stuck out. My breath came even more ragged from beneath the surface as I sucked in a tired gulp of air. My swollen, blob of an eye grew even hotter and more pained as it was submerged, and it throbbed like a tiny heart shoved into my head.

Damn I was frustrated by the condition I was in; frustrated that I had gone from perfectly fine and presentable one moment to Sloth from The Goonies the next. My stomach growled and all I wanted was a Baby Ruth. I thought about asking Chunk over on the toilet to go and get me one, but I figured dad had probably eaten them all already.

I floated there for God knows how long. It was quiet with my ears beneath the water - tranquil almost. There's an enlightening serenity to only having the sound of your breathing and your heartbeat to fill your mind. The soft kathump - kathump seemed to swallow me whole. It was everywhere both in and out, up and down as I bobbed there with each breath. I felt relaxed. I felt at peace.

That Shadow looms at my back. It's blacker than black, scoured in water tainted with oil and bubbling tar. That voice - those words hiss like steaming heat from the vicious maw of a jagged abyss. Sickening bleached fangs snap "Damn fucking queer" as my neck snaps and my head snaps and the lights snap like a camera flash before my eyes - in my eyes - in my skull. There's red on my paws. There's red on my clothes. There's red on everything except the white line that divides me from him - from it - from the Shadow. Tall as a Grim, and broad as a tainted Atlas with a two-pointed crown, the sky seems to swallow him and swirls around him like a cloak of spite. He crosses the line. The stars are his teeth, the stars are his claws; they are as sharp and gleaming as the ice that slices through the comets that slice through the night. They slice through the air and into my stomach, my chest, my face. I see those stars. I see a galaxy of stars. I hear the pain of the sun as it plummets from sight and leaves me to the Shadow. I feel the pain of one blow after another. I feel the world slipping through my fingers that are clutched over my frantically beating heart. Darkness fades to darkness. Shadow fades to shadow. I feel the red. It's pouring out and away from me. Where's my red...where's my Red...

"Sasha."

Someone calls my name. It's faint and I hear, but I don't see. That voice...

"Sasha! Come on. Wake up!"

I know that voice. The feeling in the words is warm and passionate and I don't want them to fade from my ears. I want to hold onto that warmth. It's like nothing I've ever felt, but - no...that warmth...it's holding me. The darkness releases me and I see Light. My eyes open wider to take it in - take him in. He glows like the wavering sun when it's perched high above me, and he holds me in his arms and I feel the heat of him seep into my cold, rigid body of stone. I embrace him - I embrace Light, and I melt into him.

"Sasha! Wake the hell up!"

I come to sputtering and choking. My eye opens wide, and, instead of the warm, light-bathed hero from my dream, Claire's face is hovering over me with lips pinched together in fright. Her own eyes look on the verge of bugging out of her head. Something writhes around me and I notice that she's got an arm around the back of my shoulders.

"Get out right now," she demanded. The shakiness of her voice frightened me more than the fury with which she spoke.

"What happened?" I sputtered. I coughed and water dribbled out of my nostrils.

She helped me sit up. "You almost drowned - that's what happened!"

"Wha..."

"Fucking stupid of me," she hissed. "To let you lay there knowing how damn worn out you are." She glided to a drawer and rifled around inside with her tail twitching furiously behind her.

"I fell asleep?"

She nodded curtly and snapped the towel she'd pulled out in emphasis. "Out. Now."

The weight of the world seemed to descend upon me as I parted from the water. It cascaded like rain from my fur and trickled back into the tub. The ripples felt like they would topple me over as they looped around my calves, but Claire helped me squeeze out the excess water that adhered to my fur like glue, and then she wrapped me in the towel and supported me while I stiffly stepped out onto the floor. The tile was like chilled glass on my foot-pads.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered. I gave a soft squeak as she ran the towel in between my legs. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," she sighed. "I should've been watching you." She ran the towel up and around my back, and then carefully stroked me dry on my bruised front. "Some sister I am. You come home nearly beaten to death, and then I nearly let you drown in the bath tub."

A smile tweaked up in the corner of my mouth, but she was being much too serious for it to be warranted. "Claire, I..."

I jumped as she collapsed onto her knees. They cracked against the tile, and her fall caused loose bottles on the cabinet to shudder. She dropped her head, and my ears flicked as they picked up the unmistakable plop of fat tears against the floor. When she finally lifted her head up my heart twisted in my chest at the sight of her eyes surrounded by a ring of wet fur.

"I don't understand," she whimpered. "I don't understand how someone could do this. You're my brother! What if...what if..." she croaked a sob and covered her eyes. "What if they'd killed you?" Her paws fell away from her face, and she stared past me toward another reality where I was probably stuffed in a black bag on my way to the morgue. "Sasha...you know that we all love you, right? So, so much..." She pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around my middle. The wetness of her tears made the toweling off pretty pointless as I could feel them soaking into me. "We wouldn't be able to stand loosing you. We just wouldn't."

"Claire," I whispered.

"It would've killed mom and dad. It would've killed me, too..."

"Claire," I said.

"And Conall - he would never have been able to forgive himself..."

"Claire!" I shrieked.

My sudden burst of fury snapped her out of the pitiful land her mind was wandering in. She stared up at me with big, round, tear-filled eyes.

"Stop it! I'm not dead if you can't tell! Talking like this is completely insane!"

She wiped her eyes. "But...but, Sasha..."

"No!" I barked. I grimaced as my chest seemed to split in half, and my bad eye gave a passionate throb. "No buts. I'm alive, Claire. Crying over something that didn't even happen makes no sense - so stop."

Her bottom lip quivered pathetically. "O...okay."

"Now stand up and give me a hug, please."

She wasted no time. I grunted as she latched on much too tightly for my condition, but she almost immediately remembered how sore I was and loosened her embrace to one I could stand. I lay my head on her shoulder as she gently rubbed my back.

"I just don't want this to happen again," she mumbled into my neck.

Her breath was hot like steam spurting from a kettle. It reminded me of something - something that I couldn't seem to coax out from the back of my mind.

My heart took off as I caught our reflections in the mirror over the sink. The light was shining directly on us, and our shadows were cast vast and enormous on the wall behind us. It was a monstrous, dark, looming thing that towered up to the ceiling. I gulped.

The Shadow.

I don't know who it was that had done this to me, but they were still out there. They were capable of finishing what they started - capable of finishing me.

I suddenly felt ill and sick to my stomach. My palms began to sweat, and I unfolded my arms from around Claire to find I'd left marks of moisture on her back. My heart hadn't slowed. My breathing felt sticky and labored. Claire noticed at once.

"Shit," she sniffed. I winced and my head swam as she placed her paw to my forehead. My scabbed cut flared red-hot as the heat from her cupped hand rested over it. She frowned when she pulled it away. "You're really clammy. You need rest."

"I...I need clothes first," I stammered.

"Oh, right," she moaned.

I never thought that getting dressed could make you feel like vomiting, but each article of clothing made bile rise in my throat. It took a while, but, once fully clothed, Claire made to drape my arm over her shoulder like before. I stopped her, though. "It...it's okay. Just...just hold onto my arm. I can...walk a little better."

"Okay," she grunted. She wasn't so reassured, but she grabbed ahold of my right arm and walked with me toward the door. "Lee will be glad to see you not so...messed up."

Lee. He'd nearly slipped my mind. Through all of this he hadn't left my side. I'd never realized he cared so much about me, but...I tripped up and Claire gasped as I nearly went down. "Sorry," I said hastily. She continued to walk with me, but she never took her eyes off of my face.

He was the one who found me. He was the one who held me until I awoke. He was the warmth. He was the Light.

Pleasant tingles filled my belly at the thought of him waiting for me.

Why was I so anxious to see him all of a sudden? I mean, he more or less saved my life, but I don't think gratitude was the cause. Or, it wasn't the whole cause. There was something else.

I'd never really seen Lee, and I mean seen Lee as in really known anything about him. We'd been classmates for years, but he was always that guy who didn't like to draw attention to himself. He was always so quiet and shy, a real sweetheart. We'd talk on occasion, and I found that I really enjoyed being around him. Other than Red he was the only other guy on the football team that I would call a friend.

Friend? My mind stuttered over the thoughts sloshing through it. Friend - that didn't sound or feel right.

As if she had a firm insight to my thoughts, Claire spoke up. "He's a good friend to stick by you so."

My tongue tripped over itself, and I had to clear my throat before I could form any words. "Y...yeah, he is."

She giggled, and, as pain free as she could manage, she shook me playfully a little. "Awhhhh. I think it's cute."

It seems I may have lost some sense since being beaten. "Wh...what?"

She grinned at me. It was both devilish and sincere and it scared the crap out of me. "Oh, you don't have to hide it from me."

Uh. "H...hide what?"

She blinked emphatically. Her long lashes seemed to be in slow motion. "Come on now. Dad told us about you wanting to bring a 'friend' to Greenwood with you, and I think Lee would stay the night if mom and pop would let him. He obviously has a thing for you."

Did he?

I couldn't think of anything to say. I had even stopped to lean against the wall. For some reason this turn of events had the same effect on my brain as trying to walk and drink something at the same time.

Claire grinned. "It's alright, bro. After tonight, and after what he did for you, I think it's safe to assume mom and dad will think he's worthy. The fact that he's a pigskinner won't even matter."

"B...bu...but..."

What about Red? He was the one I had a thing for!

"Come on."

And with a tug and a few unsteady steps we were back in my room. Lee was sitting on the end of my bed, and he smiled warmly and stood as Claire walked me over and sat me down beside him. I couldn't help but see how his tail began to wag. It was stirring up a small gale next to me so it was hard not to notice.

Claire was about to say something snarky and inappropriate, I bet, but my mother called up the stairs and bid her to come down. She huffed, waved, and - disappointed I'm sure - went out and closed the door behind her.

Lee crouched down, balancing on the front of his feet, and looked up at me happily. "You look a lot better. I'm glad."

His floppy ears wiggled as he sighed, and I immediately blushed at how adorable he was. I'd never really paid him enough attention before to notice, but he was...he was really cute. My stomach ached as I admired him. I felt like I was betraying Red in being interested in another guy, but...I mean, we weren't...we weren't dating or anything, and if what Claire said was true...

His soft brown eyes peered up at me, and I wavered between holding his gaze and staring blandly at the floor in between his feet. I'd look at him, lose my nerve, and with each downward glance I'd take as detailed a look of him as one eye would permit. It didn't take many for my earlier assumption that he was a looker to be proven correct.

He wasn't as built up as Red was, but instead he was lithe and athletically slim. I bet he didn't have an ounce of body fat on him. Lean muscle slipped and curved over his body where I could see, and, through his slightly raised shirt collar, I could follow that craggy split in his pecs nearly all the way down to his stomach. His arms were something else. Most of his upper arms were covered in his shirt sleeves, but I could follow each dip and line where the muscles were connected to his frame as if they'd been cut from a stone and set in place. And his hands...it's hard for me to describe his hands. Big, strong, and solid is what comes to my mind first, but...his fingers moved so fluidly that they seemed to dance. It was like they had a mind of their own. I felt the urge to just hold them and let them play over me. He lifted one of his paws and stroked his hair back. It was a medium length and a light mocha-brown like the patches of his fur around his eyes, muzzle, and the bands around his wrists. White flowed from beneath his chin and (I'm assuming) down his chest, stomach, and...err...groin area. The rest of his pelt was a steely grey with blotches of near cobalt-blue, and it was all so soft and wispy looking that I bet it was heaven to nuzzle. He still had on his tight, emerald-green football pants and some sneakers, but his shirt was...

"Oh my God!" I squealed.

He nearly toppled backward in surprise. "W...what!? You okay? Are you in pain? Maybe you should lie down."

I was slightly taken aback by his gushing concern, but the wide spot of blood on his white tee-shirt still held my attention. "Are you hurt?"

"Huh?" He followed my wide stare and plucked at the spot. "Oh, no, this is..." He smiled sympathetically. "This is from the cut on your head. You don't remember?"

I kind of did now that he'd mentioned it, but most of what had happened before getting into Conall's truck was a blur. Why did I still remember Lee calling out to me, though - his touch, his embrace?

"You should lie down, though, no kidding," he said with a wag of his tail and a bob of his ears.

I had to agree. I needed to sleep on all of this - if I could sleep, that is.

He watched me as I painfully inched my way back onto my bed and lay down. The pillow beneath my head was so welcome a relief that I almost didn't notice when Lee came and sat down on the edge of the bed beside me. He barely caused the side of the mattress to dip.

"Sasha," he said. His voice was so soft that I could barely hear him, but I could still make out the anguish in his tone. That and the frown on his face told me he was upset by something. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I'm sorry that this happened to you. You didn't deserve it, and..." He paused and looked down.

"Lee?" I asked after a few minutes silence.

His eyes roved to me when I spoke. "And...I wish I could've done something. I wish I would've been there." He paused again and his muzzle twitched down into a melancholy frown. "I...it...it scared me. I thought...I thought you were gone."

My throat tightened, and my good eye began to moisten. "Lee..."

"I wish," he said flatly. "I wish it would've been me and not you."

I tried to sit up but couldn't manage. "Lee, that's crazy. I...I can take a hit - obviously. Why...why would you say that?"

He turned to me and his eyes were so intense that I had to look away again. "It's because I don't want you to get hurt. It makes me sick to think that you could have been taken from m...from us, and so...so unjustly."

I had no idea. What Claire had said - I think it was true. It both flattered and frightened me to think that Lee cared enough for me to take a beating in my place. It also sickened me to know that, for years, he could've been feeling this way and I'd treated him as nothing more than an acquaintance. Who was I to be so pompous as to not even perceive someone else's feelings and respect them? I'd never thought that I was a shallow person. I always thought I treated others fairly, but - not only did I not know Lee - I didn't know myself. I think I was so wrapped up in understanding who I was that I didn't take the time to see others for who they were.

God I was an asshole.

Lee cared about me, and it took me nearly dying to figure it out. Why, though, had he never told me? That answer was staring me right in the face. Lee was too nice a person, too shy to say anything. Or...or maybe, unlike Red and I, he was afraid - afraid to come out. If anything, and if that were true, this whole situation should have caused him to hasten even deeper into the closet, but yet he was willing to stand up for me and for who I was no matter the fear and no matter the danger to himself.

For the first time since I'd known him I actually saw Lee. I saw a courageous, strong, righteous, and loving individual. I saw someone who was much too good for me. I saw someone I would never deserve.

I wanted to cry, but, goddammit, I was tired of doing it and it hurt. I only wanted to show Lee my appreciation for everything he'd done, and the only way I could do that right then was with a shaky embrace. If he cared for me, then I would care for him as much as I could. I knew, eventually, I wouldn't be able to ration my affection toward two, but I didn't care right then. Or at least I told myself I didn't.

I cared about Red.

I cared about Lee.

They both cared about me.

As selfish as it felt I had only one right then, and he had plucked me battered and bloody from a parking lot and seen me safely home. I prayed that Red would forgive me if he found out that I was with him, but I needed someone right then and I didn't want to worry the husky, too. If anything I found solace in hoping that he wouldn't find out about what happened at all. I knew he'd overreact and I knew it would scare him to death, and I didn't want to do that to him.

I was utterly confused by my feelings, but my emotions had been in a rightful tizzy since everything had happened and I just did what I felt was right.

Lee gasped when my arms wrapped around him, and, I didn't mean to, but I dragged him onto the bed a little ways as I couldn't support my weight and I fell. His legs were still dangling off of the side, but he was more or less reclining against my headboard with me latched onto him, my head buried into his chest. I held in the tears that so wanted to escape, and that familiar warmth from my memory once again shielded me as he embraced me back.

"Thank you," I sputtered.

It wasn't near enough, but it was a start.

His chest bobbed as he chuckled. "For what?"

"For everything."

He just sighed and tightened his hold on me. I did the same and relished in his company, in his heart beat, and in his glow.

"Sasha," he whispered to me.

My eyes were closed, and sleep was drawing so close that reality felt more obscure than lucid.

"Hmm?" I muttered.

"I won't let this happen again. I swear it."

One of his strong hands stroked gently down the side of my face. His fluid, dancing fingers traced pleasant, tingling lines against my cheek that left my skin burning in their wake. That touch - through my pain and through my troubles - it lulled me to sleep.